Shiver
by lillypilly11
Summary: She knew this river, this place, what it had already taken from her. She did not want to go back into that water.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: A short WIP, maybe three or four chapters long. I just want to say that I hope we don't lose Katherine from the show any time soon, because she is so great for creating general mayhem and dangerous, angst-inducing situations for our heroes to work their way out of...

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**...  
**_

The night air was icy and clear. Midwinter, closer to dawn than dusk, the quiet was all-encompassing as he came from the cover of trees onto the road in a flicker of inhuman speed.

He reached the threshold of the bridge before slowing to a walk. His chest didn't heave. He didn't pant heavily, breath misting in the chill. He showed no signs of exertion or distress, physical or otherwise. That wasn't what was needed here.

"Damon, I was hoping you'd make it. These things are always so much more satisfying with an audience."

There in the middle of the bridge was Katherine. She was leaning against the metal railing that bordered the bridge on both sides, separating the narrow footpath from open air. From her posture, one hip propped casually, looking along the road towards him as he approached, she could have just been hanging out. Except for the body she was dangling over the side of the bridge. Elena, unmoving, hung limply from under the arm Katherine had wrapped across her torso.

"Elena," she crooned sweetly in the girl's ear. "Elena, sweetie, we have company, time to wake up." Receiving no response, she pinched her side, cruelly twisting fragile flesh between her nails.

Elena groaned, tried to twist away from the pain, then came awake with a gasp which became a panicked cry as she realised she was hanging over empty space, nothing but black rushing water below. Her hands flew to the arm wrapped around her chest, clutching instinctively as her feet flailed, trying to find purchase on side of the bridge but finding none.

"Nice of you to join us," Katherine purred in her ear, and she went deathly still, confusion and panic overcome by the sudden realisation of what was going on.

"So what is it you want this time, Katherine?" Damon called to her, drawing her attention to him. "What's the deal?"

"No deal, sorry. I just want her dead, and I thought this way would hold a sort of poetic irony. Stefan would have appreciated it. I only waited this long because I wanted someone here to see it, which, since Stefan won't take my calls, is you. My forever second choice. You ever get tired of that?"

"You know all those movies where the villains spend all their time yapping away about how evil they are? Don't you ever get tired of being a big fat cliché?"

"In the movies the villain talks so that the hero has time to save the girl. But we both know, I think even poor Elena here has figured it out, that you can't stop me from dropping her. And if you take one more step closer, I'll snap her neck before I let go."

Elena tried not to let a sound escape her. She wouldn't give Katherine the satisfaction of hearing her whimper in fear. The arm supporting her was like iron under her grasping hands, but the hold Katherine had on her was quite loose - one tiny move and Elena would fall.

She looked down. It was impossibly dark under her feet, the street lights' glow not reaching down to the level of the river. She couldn't see the water, could only imagine how cold it was at this time of year, snow falling every night and ice on the ground. But she could hear it, the current rushing by, churning around the bridge pylons.

And beyond all that she _knew_ it. She knew this river, this place, what it had already taken from her.

She did not want to go back into that water. The thought went beyond horror. _Not like this_, the silent plea wrenched a sob from her, _god please, not like this._ She would almost prefer the neck-snapping.

She wrenched her eyes up from the forbidding darkness below and turned her head instead to watch Damon, knowing he was her only hope. His face was blank, his eyes tight, and she could read the frantic energy screaming from every inch of him to do something. But she was right, Katherine, of course she could kill her before he got close enough to stop it.

Damon felt Elena's desperate gaze but refused to look at her, not allowing his attention to drift from Katherine's face for a second. If there was a chance, a split-second's chance, he had to be ready to take it. And with Katherine it was all about reading the signs, the shifting moods beneath the facade.

"He won't forgive you," he told her. "Come on, you're going about this all wrong. If you do this he won't magically fall back under your charms. He'll just kill you."

"No he won't, but he might die trying. I'm okay with that." Katherine shrugged, the gesture drawing a cry from Elena as she slipped a few inches. "Shh," she soothed, "In a few minutes this will all be over, Elena. Don't worry, I'll take good care of them. I do know how, after all, they were mine first."

Damon forced a laugh, shaking his head, his tone mocking. "You don't even know what you want, do you, Katherine? Oh it's so tough, having your own way all the time, and then suddenly your playthings don't want to play any more? What to do? It must get confusing, you being kind of a dumb bitch in your own way."

"Don't try to make me mad, Damon. I know exactly what I want. I'll kill Stefan if it comes to that, but I don't want him dead. You either. I just want you broken, because that's what happens to toys when they don't play nice. Personally I can't think of a better way to do it than this." She stroked Elena's hair and gave a menacing laugh. "Damon, Damon. Sweet boy. You're not going to be the hero here, or ever. That's not you - remember, you said that to me yourself, that night on Elena's porch, when you poured your sweet little heart out to me? Stefan's the hero. He saved Elena right here, didn't he? That night her parents bought the big one? I've heard the story. So touching. If he hadn't been there, she would have died down there in the water with her parents, drowned, a life cut tragically short." Her mouth pressed resentfully to Elena's ear as she hissed her next words. "That's how it should have gone for you, and now I'm going to put things right. Good bye, Elena."

She didn't even have time to scream. In the blink of an eye Katherine was gone, and Elena was falling.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Wow thanks so much for the reviews and faves etc, I didn't think anyone would even pay attention to this fic just from that short opening chapter. Well so here's the next bit, thanks for reading! :)

* * *

_**Shiver**_

**_part two_**

**_...  
_**

He saw the intention written on her face and was moving before Elena even began to drop from Katherine's grasp. But Katherine was always going to be stronger and faster and she was ready for him. She turned from the railing and the falling girl and threw herself at him, meeting his momentum with her own, the full weight of centuries behind her.

Elena hit the water. He hit the asphalt hard, Katherine's knee planted on his sternum as she crouched over him, fangs lowered. His blood rose and he heaved futilely against her.

"That was one hell of a splash," she taunted. Snakelike, she considered him with her blood-red eyes, and then suddenly she shrugged. "I'm not heartless, Damon. You want to try to save her. Go on, then, I'll be so interested to see if you fail at this like you've failed at almost everything else. Ooh," she pouted, tracing a finger over the furrow between his eyes, "Did I hit a nerve?"

He barely heard her taunting; her hold had loosened and he threw her off him, not even seeing where she landed because he was already up, moving, one leap clearing the side of the bridge.

The shock of the water was intense, the cold hit like a hammer to the diaphragm, and if that was how he felt... He broke the surface with her name on his lips. "Elena!" He swung around, treading water, the current already carrying him swiftly away from the bridge, senses straining as he tried to catch a sound, a movement. The river was too dark even for his eyes to pick up much of anything, and all was silent but for rushing water. Katherine's intervention had cost precious time. Elena could be anywhere, hundreds of yards downstream or sunk straight to the bottom.

Seconds passed as he listened desperately for something, the slightest splash, anything, to tell him where to look because he had no freaking idea.

He was helpless.

In those seconds he saw it all play out in his head: Not finding her. Searching and searching until he had no choice but to give up because her only chance was getting to her in time to get her warm again, to get her breathing, and if he had to, to force his blood down throat before her inadequate human heart stopped beating.

He saw himself losing her. And telling his brother what happened, and then losing him, too, because Stefan would never forgive him for letting this happen. Weird, he never would have called himself caring about that.

He saw what happened next. He saw Katherine's death, and the brief satisfaction that would bring. And then the part after that, where he said _enough_. Where he packed the hard-won remnants of his humanity away like old clothes in the attic, to be lost and forgotten, once and for all. The part where he left a bloody trail out of this town and never looked back.

If he lost Elena like this he would be done. There might even be some relief in it; the temptation to flip the switch again, to go back to never caring about anything, was always present. But he didn't _want_ that.

The images passed before his mind's eye, the potential future spilling out for him in mere seconds, leaving him with the knowledge that he _had_ to find her and save her delicate little human life one more time because he was ultimately a selfish creature. And losing her would royally suck for him.

He closed his eyes, ears strained to the full extent of his ability. And like a blessing he heard it, a weak cough, followed by a splash like a flailing limb hitting the water. Vampires were not so much creatures of speed and grace in the water as they were on land, but regardless, powerful strokes propelled him through the water fast as any Olympian. He closed to within twenty feet of where he had heard her and stopped to listen again, calling her name once more. When that didn't work he dropped fully beneath the surface, listening for muted underwater sounds, and heard what sounded like bubbles escaping. Like a last gasp. Perfect.

Having to do everything by ear slowed him down but he had her now. Not even bothering to break surface again, he dove towards her until he could hear her sluggish heartbeat like a beacon.

Twenty seconds later he was hauling her up onto the bank. The cold had sapped his strength somewhat, but then, he had a lot of it to spare; he was fine. She was not. She barely responded as he called her name and ran his hands over her checking briefly for obvious injuries. A small lump on her head could have been Katherine's calling card, but otherwise she felt intact, no gushing wounds or broken bones.

She coughed suddenly, spluttering water from her mouth and he tilted her over his arm to aid the process. This was good, it meant she was still breathing, which meant he wouldn't have to call on all those episodes of Baywatch he would not admit to having seen in the nineties for resuscitation tips. Besides, he could still hear her heart beating. She was cold, though, probably hypothermic.

He wavered for a second, unable to shake the suspicion that Katherine was still in the vicinity, lurking nearby to see whether he succeeded, if she needed to come back and finish the job. He had to get Elena away from there, the question was, where? Katherine could come and go at the boarding house as she pleased, same with Elena's house. The only place really safe would be somewhere with a human occupant who had no ties to vampires. And close. It had to be close.

Elena lifted easily into his arms, and he moved.

There were houses dotted all along the river. The nearest one wasn't far off, but by the time he reached the front stoop Elena was limp in his arms, unconscious or close to it, and unmoving but for the shivering that wracked her entire frame.

He took a second to get into character, then he was pounding on the door, slapping at the doorbell, then pounding some more. "Hey! Is anyone there?" he yelled. "Please, we need help, there's been an accident!"

There was movement upstairs, lights coming on, he listened as two people messed around, taking their sweet time getting downstairs.

The room beyond the front door lit up and a male voice came through the door. "Who's out there?"

"It's my friend, there's been an accident, we need help!" he called through the door, and it edged open to reveal an elderly couple in night clothes peering out, wary but concerned.

"You have to help us! She fell in the river, I got her out but she's unconscious and my phone isn't working and this was the first house I could reach! Please." He panted and gasped and clutched Elena against his chest like a frantic loved-one, trying to convey how harmless and needy he was. It helped that they were soaked from head to foot and that Elena really _was_ harmless and needy.

The man gaped at them. "What on earth!"

"Oh my," his wife exclaimed, "Bring her inside, she doesn't look good."

"What were you doing out there this time of night? Are you kids crazy?"

But the woman's words had worked their magic and he was over the threshold, shouldering the door closed as soon as he was inside. There was a chair in the front hall, and he set Elena directly down in it.

"I'll call nine-one-one," the woman was saying, reaching for the phone that sat on a side table near the stairs.

He had her by the wrist before she took a step. "Stop." As she looked up at him, startled, he locked his gaze on hers, exerting his will as easy as breathing. "Don't do anything." He turned and stepped towards the man, who was just opening his mouth to protest. "You either." He brought the two of them over side by side so he could work more efficiently.

He spoke. "It's very simple. Everything is fine. You are both going to go sit on the couch and watch TV. You are not going to move until I tell you to. Under no circumstances are you to invite anyone inside this house tonight. Understand?"

"I understand," said the old lady.

"I bet there are some good infomercials on right now," said her husband. And the two of them shuffled into the living room to find the remote.

He forgot about them, turning back to Elena, who was shaking so violently she'd almost toppled herself from the chair.

"Elena?" He grabbed her shoulders to get her attention. "Hey!"

"Damon?" She frowned up at him, and then looked around the room, confused. Her teeth literally chattered, her words barely sensible as she said, "Where are we? I... Katherine, we have to -"

He could fix all this easily enough now they were safe indoors. With the edge of a tooth he tore the skin of his wrist. "Here, Elena. Elena? You need to -"

"No!"

"Just - this isn't an option. Drink. Warm you up in no time."

She twisted her head back and forth, trying to avoid his bleeding wrist. The act of fighting him off seemed to have brought her round fully. "_N__-__no_ I can't D-d-amon what if-?" She grabbed his arm, holding it still, staring at him with pleading eyes.

What if she did actually die, he finished her stuttering words for her. Entirely possible now that Katherine was actively trying to accomplish just that.

The thing was, lately he'd really been trying not to do anything to further piss Elena off at him. So he couldn't take that choice away from her, not just yet, when she still might recover on her own.

Blue-lipped, shivering wreck of a girl notwithstanding, he still had time and could do it later, if he had to. And she could just damn well be pissed about it.

"Guess we do this the old fashioned way, then." He poked his head round the doorway to the living room. "Hey, Gramps, where's your bathroom?"

"It's the door off the hallway on the right," the old man answered helpfully, leaning forward to point but not moving from his seat.

He turned back and pulled Elena up out of the chair. "Come on, can you walk? Of course you can't. I'm basically your personal Sherpa now." He swung her up into his arms and carried her into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: There will probably be two more parts after this, possibly three. The rating may also change to 'M'... I'm going to try to continue posting one part a day, and get the final one in before the new episode on Thursday.

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**part three**_

_**...  
**_

For Elena the progression of time after slipping from Katherine's grasp seemed to occur in brief flashes of terror and confusion.

The moment of falling, followed too quickly by the shock of the water so cold it knocked all the breath out of her. Sinking, heavy water-logged clothes dragging her under. Fighting, but the darkness was absolute and there was no air and she didn't know which way was up and the _cold_ was like nothing she'd ever felt, every movement a battle over her own failing muscles.

The moment when she knew she was losing the fight.

Coughing in Damon's arms. The burning in her chest was almost unbearable as she fought to breathe against spasming lungs. Free of the water, but soaked to the bone, the cold hit her anew in a huge wave of painful sensation.

A new struggle as she tried not to give in to the darkness clouding her mind, threatening to carry her off like the river sweeping her away. Things were happening, Damon was there and there were other voices but it was all too hard to follow, none of it made sense.

He tried to give her his blood but she didn't want it. Fought with him, too, just as she was fighting her own body's reaction to the cold. For once, to her great relief, he didn't fight her back.

The cold, dark place in her mind was still pulling at her when she found herself on the floor, propped against the side of the tub in an unfamiliar bathroom, watching Damon pull her boots and socks off her feet with a frantic urgency she couldn't imagine herself duplicating just now. She knew she was soaked through, that she was so cold it was insane, but she was losing the will to care, so tired and just wanting to give in to the growing numbness.

Although she knew he was close, Damon's voice seemed to come from a distance. "Elena? Elena!" He said her name several times, sharper with every repetition. Then his face was right in front of hers, and his hands were on her cheeks. He slapped her and she gasped.

"What?" she demanded, sluggish but annoyed. "I'm tired." Another bout of shivering wracked her.

"You know how they say 'sleep when you're dead'? Yeah, not happening. On your feet, come on."

He dragged her up on her feet, lifting her easily as an infant. She was ungainly, unhelpful as he pulled her coat from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, then manoeuvred her into the bathtub. She could barely feel her legs, let alone use them to hold herself up, so he held her against his chest with one arm and with the other reached for the taps. Turning the shower on hard and hot, he only waited long enough for the water to just begin warming up before he was moving with her under the spray.

She shrieked, fighting to get away. It _hurt_, the sudden shock of heat on her chilled body like a thousand knives of fire piercing her. Damon swore, grabbing at the hot tap to turn it down while juggling her twisting, struggling form.

When the water was down to just slightly warm the fight left her, her knees dropping out from under her so that she would have fallen in a heap if Damon's arm hadn't still been locked around her middle. He turned her back to face him and drew her against his chest again, his hands now moving roughly over her arms and back, encouraging circulation.

"Come on, Elena," he spoke to her, head resting on her wet hair. "You know how much time and effort I've put into keeping you alive this past year? Think I'm going to just let that slide? Maaan you are one high-maintenance chick."

She snorted pathetically, shivering too much to come up with a proper comeback. It was weird being in the shower fully dressed; weirder being in here with Damon. She just shifted her face against his shoulder so water wasn't shooting right in her eyes, that was about all she could manage at the moment.

Long minutes passed as they stood there, Elena resting limply against him, Damon's hands rubbing life back into her limbs. A few times he reached over to adjust the taps, increasing the temperature.

At some point she began to actually register the heat seeping back into her. She brought a hand up to push water-logged hair out of her face, then rubbed her hands together, flexing stiff, aching fingers. _E__verything _hurt, ached, burned - although she still couldn't really feel her feet. That probably wasn't a good sign.

"How're we doing?" Damon said. His hands moving over her had slowed from their feverish chafing motion, and now he used one to tilt her chin up.

She was basically feeling like she was still dying here, and tried to convey that with a look.

He tsked at her. "Better. That whole blue corpsicle look, never been my thing, I'm afraid."

"You're n-not funny. I'm -"

"Freezing to death, literally, I know. Don't worry, this is where it gets fun." He grinned his wolfish grin at her and then ordered her to stay upright as he propped her against the wall, angling the shower head to still cover her once he had her in position. He turned up the heat a little more, then dropped his hands to the front of her jeans.

"Hey," she made a half-hearted attempt at warding him off.

She was weak as a kitten, and he was easily able to bat her hands away while managing to unfasten her button and fly. His hands eased over her hips, taking the stiff, uncooperative denim with them while leaving her underwear in place. He had to kneel as he went, pushing the jeans all the way down her legs, then lifting her feet one by one to get them off. He paused there, massaging her feet and calves while looking up at her through the fall of water cascading over them both.

"Just relax," he told her, palms skimming up to her knees. "And let me enjoy this."

If she wasn't shaking so hard she would have smacked him. But his teasing actually did relax her, it was familiar ground for them, much moreso than anything else that was happening right now. Standing in a shower half-undressed with Damon Salvatore, feeling like she would never be really warm again, every nerve-ending screaming as they woke back up. He'd saved her life, was still helping her, and if he leaned a few inches closer his face would be nestled against her lower belly. She needed a little more strength of mind to be adequately bothered by that.

She watched as, gently, he returned her foot to the floor of the tub and climbed to his feet, lifting his sweater off over his head in one smooth movement as he rose. He peeled the clinging material off his arms and flung it behind him to join the growing pile of wet clothes on the bathroom floor.

He turned the tap another half-an-inch. The water was hot now, and her trembling was tapering off, coming now only in short bursts. The colour had returned to her skin, he saw as he assessed her, no longer so shockingly pale as when he had pulled her from the river.

The river, cold, dark and deep; he was amazed all over again that he'd found her at all. It could so easily have gone the other way, pure luck that it hadn't.

Elena pushed away from the wall to stand under her own power, her arms wrapped around herself. After another bout of shivering passed she reached up to wipe water from her eyes and looked up at him from mere inches away.

"Damon? Are you all right?"

Was _he_ all right.

Was he all _right?_

As she watched his face she saw him bite back a first reply, then a second.

"You still look cold. Are you still cold?" he said finally, and pulled her back into his arms without waiting for an answer. His body curled around her, his head bowed over hers. His fingers flexed against the wet material of her top, gauging the softness of her flesh underneath before giving in to the urge to clutch at her like he was the one drowning and she his only lifeline.

The shower beat down on them, driving the heat back into their bones, the sound of falling water filling their ears. Elena loop her arms around Damon's waist and decided that, just for now, he could hold her for as long as he wanted. He'd earned it. She burrowed further into the comfort of his embrace, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

Another shiver ran through her, but she was feeling warmer all the time.

* * *

...

_Important Author's Note: Elena probably didn't have full blown hypothermia here, but if she had, the way Damon treats it is actually completely wrong. He's a vampire with much more experience ending lives than saving them, so we'll cut him some slack. My excuse is that I had to take a few liberties writing it because I couldn't get the image of Damon warming Elena up in the shower out of my head... Still, if you or anyone you know ever takes a dive into freezing water, please do not rely on snuggles with an attractive vampire to address the problem._


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: Yay, Damon and Elena manage to actually have a conversation in this chapter. Of course once they started talking I couldn't get them to stop... Kind of posting this on the fly, too, so apologies for any glaring errors.

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**part four**_

_**...  
**_

"Damon," Elena said after a while, "Did you... compel an elderly couple and take over their house?"

"That, or I redecorated one of my own bathrooms with potpourri and a crocheted toilet seat cover."

She drew back, looking up. "We, um, we need to get dry clothes and get out of here."

He didn't move, not really feeling the urgency. He ran his hands up and down her arms, wet sleeves plastered to her skin creating an interesting effect, making him think of wet t-shirt contests. One of the few good things to come out of the eighties.

His palms passed up over her shoulders and round her back, she shifted self-consciously but didn't pull away. He'd gotten used to touching her, and didn't particularly see a reason to stop now, just because she probably wasn't dying of hypothermia any more.

"You're right," he replied finally, "These wet things have to go."

Before she really knew what was happening he was helping her out of top, peeling the layered sweater and tank top up over her head and off her arms.

"Hey, hey!" she protested a little too late, arms crossing over her chest. "Damon what the hell?"

"There you go, if you're scolding me you must be feeling better."

"I'm not feeling better, I'm -"

"Oh, you're still cold? We can warm you up some more."

"I'm not cold. I am however aware of the fact that we're half-naked in the shower together."

"Want me to drop my pants and even things up? Less awkward when everyone's in their undies."

"Damon."

"Not that I'm wearing any."

She stared up at him. She still hurt all over, she was still shaken and needy and she was not unaffected by him, never had been, and she was also really just not up for a fight. She chewed her lip, not knowing how to tell him to just help her - more than he already had tonight. That she needed him to be the grown-up just a little while longer. Or she was going to cry, or just give in and let him kiss her, or something else she would obviously regret later when she was herself again.

She was staring at his chest, blinking stinging eyes, when she felt his lips press softly on the crown of her head.

"Stay under the water, stay warm, I'll go find something for you to wear."

She closed her eyes, sighing in relief, and felt him climb out of the tub. Then nothing. She reopened her eyes to find him standing there staring unabashedly, his eyes travelling over her. Her jaw dropped in outrage.

"Yep, that'll hold me." He smiled at her chest a beat longer, then swished the shower curtain closed and left the bathroom.

She rolled her eyes and turned to lift her face up to the water, rubbing her hands over her face, and then paused to inspect her fingers. They were beyond pruned by this stage, it must have been at least twenty minutes that they'd been in here, and maybe more like thirty or forty, she wasn't quite sure.

With Damon's absence went her main source of distraction. She hadn't even begun to process what had happened. Katherine. The river. She didn't remember the accident, only waking up in the hospital a day later, to the knowledge that her entire world had changed. She'd never really allowed herself to think about what her parents must have gone through, trapped in the car, with the water rising.

She shut her eyes against the awful image. She wished she could forget what had happened to her tonight, forget that fall into cold, dark water.

Suddenly she became very aware of the noise of the shower as it pounded down into the tub.

It was like the sound hadn't registered before, but now it was thundering in her head. She swallowed hard, staring down at her feet, at the water swirling and disappearing down the drain. Her heart started to pound and she had to breathe harder to keep up. Suddenly she was back there, in the river, floundering in the dark, water threatening to fill her lungs. She couldn't breathe -

In a panic her hand shot out and she twisted the shower taps off, only able to settle her ragged breathing once the water had completely stopped.

Carefully, she stepped out of the tub and found a towel, wrapping it around herself. She turned to the mirror and swiped a hand across it to dispel some of the fog, and went to work raking her fingers through her hair, trying to put herself back together.

"Here you go," Damon said as he stepped back in. He deposited a pile of clothes by the sink. "Should fit. Old people are short, like all of them, you ever notice that?"

She picked through the clothes. Everything was very... fuzzy. There was a pair of regular old sweat pants, but with that came a big, fuzzy knit sweater, a pair of thick woollen socks, and even an obviously hand-made beanie, complete with fuzzy pompom on top. This he grabbed from the pile and fitted over her head, smirking at the effect.

"Thanks," she muttered. "And what are you going to wear?"

"I'm good." He grabbed his wet top from the floor and wrung it out.

"You'd rather be cold and wet than wear something less than stylish?"

He gave her an incredulous look that was only half put on. "Uh, _yeah_. Plus, you know, being cold and wet doesn't bother me. Certainly won't kill me, unlike some people."

She put a hand out to touch his arm. She hadn't said it yet. "Thank you. You saved my life. Again. I'm grateful."

"But...?"

"No but, I'm just grateful. Katherine was so wrong about you." Her mouth twisted in a small smile. She wanted to wipe away every poisonous word she had heard come from Katherine's mouth, because no matter what he said, she knew they hurt. "You were my hero tonight. I don't care how cheesy that sounds, it's true."

He rolled his eyes, but then met her gaze openly, with a small shrug. "You're just... not allowed to die, that's all. I'm not a hero, just selfish."

"Then you're wrong about you, too."

He wondered if this meant she'd forgiven him for the whole Jeremy thing now, but wasn't going to bring it up and spoil the moment.

After he'd grabbed the rest of the wet things off the floor - couldn't just leave them behind, after all - he left Elena alone to dress. She towelled off as best she could, then pulled the old lady's clothes on over her damp underwear. The sweater was a mottled mix of mauve and grey, the silly hat a more garish combination of pink and red, her ensemble anything by stylish. But at least it was warm enough.

"Okay, let's go," she said, after finally managing to pull her uncooperative wet boots on over the thick socks and exiting the bathroom.

He was leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs. "Wait."

"Right, you have to compel those people again. Are they all right?" She looked around, peering into the next room where light from a television could be seen.

"Actually..." Damon's tone brought her attention back.

She was instantly wary. "What?"

He considered her for a moment. He knew she wasn't going to like this. "How would you feel about staying here."

"_What?_"

"It's not safe for you out there."

"Damon, come on. We have to go, we have to find Stefan. Have you even thought about what Katherine could be doing right now?"

"Yeah, we need to get Stefan in on this. He and I are gonna go kill the bitch. You, on the other hand, are staying here."

"What? No, don't be stupid, I'm not staying here Damon."

He took a step towards her. "Uh, yeah, you are. It's safe. Big bad Katherine can't come in."

"You can't keep me here." Her chin jutted out stubbornly and she stared him down.

He took another step, now using his height to tower over her. His demeanour changed in an instant and he looked at her with hard eyes. "Yes, I can. I can tie you up and let the old folks in there babysit you until Katherine is nothing but a shrivelled, desiccated corpse."

She gaped at him. "I have just started to not hate you, why are you doing this?"

"No, see, if I don't let you have your own way, you won't hate me. You'll be very mad at me; there's a difference. The difference being that I can live with mad. So give me one good reason why we shouldn't do things my way."

"Because if you leave me here," she argued, not about to give in, "You'll have to make sure I can't contact anyone to come get me. Which means if I need help, I can't contact _you_. You can't know that I'll be safe here. If Katherine followed us from the river, she could just be waiting for you to leave, then she'll grab someone and compel them to come in here and kill us all. The only place you'll know I'm really safe is if I'm with you."

Her eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for his response, and was satisfied when he couldn't seem to come up with one.

"Huh. Nicely argued."

"Thank you. Can we get out of here?"

He stepped quickly in front of her when she would have turned away. "But you," he wagged a finger at her, his eyes narrowed as his mind worked.

"Yes?"

He leaned in to her. "_You_, have to drink the blood."

"What? No."

"Yes, that's the deal." He bit into his wrist until the blood ran in a trickle.

She backed away, shaking her head. "No, I'm not doing it. It's my choice not to. I won't become a vampire."

"You're coming with me because according to you, you're safe with me. Which means you are trusting that I can keep you alive. Which means that you don't think you will die, which means the blood in your system won't turn you into a vampire, it'll just help clear up any after effects of your little swim tonight." He nodded as she didn't say anything. "Yeah, uh-huh, nicely argued Damon, why thank you, Elena. Come on, now," he coaxed, holding out his arm to her as her face grew steadily more stormy. "Drink it. Driiink iiiit. My logic is superior and that means you have to so just _drink it_."

"God, fine!" she burst out, and grabbed his arm and licked the line of blood off his wrist in one long swipe. She swallowed, making a face. "Ugh, gross."

His face screwed up dismissively. "Oh, no it's not. Humans love the hard stuff, can't get enough of it. Want some more?"

She pushed his hand away. "No."

He inclined his head towards her, suddenly. "You're not going to die, Elena. You have nothing to worry about." She gave him a small smile, appreciating his attempt to reassure her. "That hat looks great on you, by the way," he added.

She rolled her eyes and headed into the living room. Then she stood by watching as Damon compelled their hosts.

He had to wake them up first, they had both fallen asleep where he'd left them on the sofa.

"You will go back to bed now and forget everything that has happened tonight. We were never here, nothing out of the ordinary happened at all." He paused, thought about it, and added, "You're not going to wonder where your car is when you wake up tomorrow. It'll turn back up at some point and you'll find the keys in the mail box and all will be well." Elena was making a valiant effort not to frown at him, so he added, "And you're going to... feel good about yourselves in general from now on. And happy. Really, very content with your place in the world. If you don't have a pet you should think about getting one. People with pets live longer." He chanced another look and now Elena was making a valiant effort not to smile. Good enough. "Car keys?" he prompted.

"Oh, we keep the keys in a dish by the front door," the woman said. "Otherwise Howard loses them."

"Good thinking, Ma'am." He grabbed Elena's hand and pulled her to the front door, scooping up the keys on the way.

In the car, on the short drive to the boarding house, which was just a few streets away along the river, Damon couldn't stop glancing over at Elena. And not just because he couldn't believe how well she could pull off an outfit like that.

"Thank you for drinking the blood," he said finally.

"Thank you for not leaving me tied up back there with a pair of complete strangers." Where he had been sincere, she was just plain snarky.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, I wasn't going to leave you there."

There was a pause. Then a glare. "Wait, what? You said -" There was a longer pause as she figured it out. "You just said that so I would have to take the blood." She crossed her arms over her chest, staring furiously out the window. "You are so -!" she broke off with an angry noise.

"Once again," he intoned as they pulled into the drive leading up to the house, "I can live with mad. The important thing is, so will you."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: So I'm not really sure where this story fits in regarding the show's timeline, but let's say that the S/E break-up in 2.06 'Plan B' happened (conveniently) and branch off from there.

This is just a short part, setting things up for the final chapter which I hope to get posted tomorrow. Thanks once again for reading!

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**part five**_

_**...  
**_

Elena stalked into the house ahead of Damon, still annoyed about the way he had tricked her. She should have expected something like that from him. But the truth was, the only surprising thing was that she wasn't _that_ mad about it, her initial ire fading quickly. Whether that was because she had bigger things to worry about than Damon being a jerk, or because she understood that he had acted out of fear and concern, and it was difficult not to forgive him, she didn't know. After all, she'd forgiven bigger transgressions.

She still hated being tricked, though. Jerk.

She heard him come in behind her and close the door, and they both looked up as someone approached from the kitchen. She was expecting it to be Stefan, and found herself mentally steeling herself for the coming conversation. But it was Caroline who suddenly appeared.

"Elena? Why in god's name are you dressed like that?" She looked past her to Damon. "And why are you all wet?"

It was Damon who replied. "Short answer, Stefan's ex-girlfriend threw Stefan's other ex-girlfriend off Wickery Bridge."

"Oh my god, are you all right?"

"I'm just fine, sweet of you to ask," Damon said, as Caroline made a beeline for Elena.

"We're okay," Elena assured her. "It was... Damon was there, so... I'm fine."

"Just a little case of attempted murder, no biggie. Where's Stefan? And why are you here?"

Caroline shifted uncomfortably. "I... was hungry. Stefan isn't here, I haven't seen him." She took in the twin looks on Elena and Damon's faces and said, "You don't think that's a coincidence, do you?"

Elena stared at Damon with growing apprehension. "What if she did all this just to get us out of the way?"

He snapped his fingers at Caroline. "Blondie. Phone."

His own cell phone had been tucked in his jeans pocket since before his heroic leap into the river; he wasn't even going to bother trying to use it. Caroline produced hers and tossed it to him. He paced away, moving in the direction of the alcohol with the phone pressed to his ear. His hand was just reaching for the scotch when it connected.

"This isn't really a good time, Caroline," Stefan said.

"You'll make time for me, though, right Brother?"

"What are you doing with Caroline's phone?"

"Not important. What is important - are you with Skank Who Shall Not Be Named right now? Cough once for yes, twice for no."

"We're, uh, we're just taking a little walk. Talking."

He heard loud and clear what Stefan wasn't saying; that he was going along with what Katherine wanted for now, and that Damon shouldn't interfere. What was missing from Stefan's voice was the anger or urgency that would have come with knowing what Katherine had done to Elena mere hours earlier. He didn't know.

"Right," he said, wavering over what he should or shouldn't say. Complicated, of course, by the fact that Katherine was listening to the entire conversation. "Okay..."

Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm, and looked down to find Elena beside him. She just looked at him, giving the slightest shake of her head. He could see it in her eyes, she didn't want him to tell Stefan.

He nodded once. "Okay. Well just so you know, Elena and the blonde, whiny one are here with me and everything's cool. You do what you've got to do, Stefan."

He ended the call, not giving Stefan the chance to ask any questions, which he was bound to do once Elena's name was mentioned.

"Do you think she'll hurt him?" were the first words out of Elena's mouth.

"Stefan's the one person on the planet safe where Katherine is concerned."

"I was there on the bridge, too, she said she'd kill him if she had to."

"Yeah, if he tries to kill her, which he won't do since he doesn't know she just tried to kill you - and that's why you didn't want me to tell him about that, because we both know my baby brother has a little problem controlling himself where you're concerned."

Elena subsided, realising arguing with him wasn't going to help anything.

"So what do we do now?" They both looked over as Caroline spoke, remembering she was in the room.

"Nothing. We wait and see if Stefan gets anything useful out of Katherine. Meanwhile, Elena's going to stay here and take a nap 'cause she looks like death only slightly warmed up. I'm... going to grab something to eat, assuming a certain baby vampire hasn't cleared out the whole refrigerator yet. You, Blondie, actually I don't care what you do. Stop eating my food."

"No. I will go home, though, I guess?"

He was about to applaud the suggestion but immediately thought better of it. "Wait, no you should stay here. Help me babysit."

He eyed Elena, expecting a protest from her about this arrangement. She just shrugged and moved to sit on the couch, a testament to how wiped out she really was.

Caroline took a seat beside her, arm going around her shoulders. "Elena," she asked softly, "Are you... I mean, Wickery Bridge?"

Elena looked at her friend, glad suddenly that she was feeling so utterly drained, otherwise the sympathy would have been too much. "Yeah."

"And... _seriously_ where did you get those clothes?"

She laughed at that, reaching up to pull the stupid hat off her head.

Damon left the girls to talk, knowing he wasn't needed, and headed to the kitchen. It had been a big night for him, too, and he really was hungry.

Some time later, Elena was trying to sleep.

By now it was mid-morning. She hadn't had any sleep the previous night, and after the whole ordeal was beyond exhausted, but she was restless. She'd been making herself comfortable at the boarding house for months now, there wasn't any reason she shouldn't be able to rest easily. Especially knowing Damon and Caroline were both in the house alert for the slightest hint of an unwanted visitor.

She tossed and turned on the couch where she was trying to sleep, or at least trying to quiet her mind. When that proved futile she resorted to sipping hot tea with honey, ambling around the big house like a zombie, mug clutched between her hands. She tried joining Caroline as she watched TV, but couldn't concentrate on either the show or Caroline's running commentary.

She decided to change out of the borrowed clothes, swapping them for a pair of boxer shorts stolen from a pile of clean laundry and, for some reason she wasn't quite sure about, instead of finding something else to go on top, ended up putting back on the big fuzzy old lady sweater. It was comfortable and warm, that was all.

Eventually she found her way back to the couch in front of the blazing fireplace, curling up under a blanket, carefully tucking in her bare feet. She'd expected Damon to appear at some point and question her restlessness, but he'd shut himself away upstairs earlier, probably indulging in the sleep that was so persistently eluding her.

She shut her eyes on what felt like disappointment, and once again tried to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: Happy Halloween, here is the last chapter! There is some sexual content in this part, but it's fairly brief and not that graphic so I think the 'T' rating still applies, although I can change it if people think I should.

Thanks everyone who has been reviewing, I really appreciate it.

* * *

_**Shiver**_

_**part six**_

_**...  
**_

Full from his meal of stolen blood he retreated upstairs, listening idly to the movements of the girls who had taken up residence in his house - and his life - as he entered his room. He kicked off his shoes and changed out of his still-damp clothes, swapping them for an almost identical, albeit dry, set because why mess with what worked. He settled on the bed and gave in to the lure of a nap, sleeping for a while before coming awake some time later immediately on alert for anything wrong. But nothing felt out of place, the house quiet but not _too_ quiet.

He got up and left the bedroom. He could hear the television on downstairs, and someone was moving around in the kitchen - Caroline was raiding the refrigerator again. His mouth twisted; next time _she_ could drive three hours to raid a blood bank far enough away not to rouse suspicion.

He sharpened his hearing further to suss out just where Elena had got to. Tuned in to the smallest noises, he realised he wasn't alone up here, turning towards the row of doors leading off the long hallway. He paced closer. There she was, in the bathroom, he could hear the sound of her quiet breathing bouncing off the tile, her heartbeat a steady thrum beneath.

He paused when he realised she didn't seem to actually be doing anything in there. He tapped on the door as he turned the handle, waited briefly for a protest, and when there was none pushed the door open.

Sitting on the bathroom floor, hugging her bare knees in that ridiculous sweater with the sleeves pulled over her hands, she should have looked pathetic, childish, like a lost little kid. Instead she just looked tired and world-weary as she tipped her head back against the vanity and regarded him evenly.

"I have a problem," she said.

"Okay."

"I can't sleep. I can't close my eyes. I washed my hands and the sound of the water freaked me out so much I almost had a panic attack. How am I supposed to deal with Katherine?"

"She threw you off a bridge." He stepped through the door and shut it behind him. "She _threw you off a bridge_ Elena. Not just any bridge, the one where you almost died before, where your parents did die - because she thought it would be a cool way to kill you."

"Damon."

"You should be scared. You should be out of your mind terrified. Because you're a weak little girl and she's a centuries old demon bitch from hell and you're _lucky_ all she did was throw you off a bridge."

"This is really helping, thanks."

His mouth tightened. "Why would you expect me to help you? Didn't I already saved your life today? Don't tell me I'm on warm-and-fuzzy patrol too - surely there are better people to guard your mental health."

"I think I'll take care of my own mental health, thanks. I just thought..." She was on her feet suddenly, moving to push past him and get to the door. "Forget it, I don't know why I -"

"Really?" His arm shot out around her waist, catching her in place. "I think I have some idea."

She pushed away, taking several steps back. "Damon."

"Probably has something to do with how you want to keep hating me but really can't get enough of me. How you'd like me to be around, to give you everything you need, without giving an inch in return."

She stared at him, feeling sick at his words. Her eyes searched his. "Is that really how you see it?"

That look on her face, it got him every time. He sighed, relenting, and propped himself against the bathroom counter. "Okay, no. Because every time I look at you, Elena, I see my better self in your eyes. It's still there, even now."

She took a tentative step closer. "I'm starting to see it again too, okay?"

She was relieved seeing his mouth turn up at her small offering. They shared a small smile, the tension dissipating. She was thinking they'd probably spent enough time hanging out in bathrooms in the past twelve hours, when he suddenly spoke again.

"I could take a swing at your mental health issues. I'd make a great therapist." He reached behind him to the sink and flipped the tap on. "Really? That's scary?"

Her mouth twisted in reluctant humour.

"You know what's more scary than that? Just about anything. Spiders. Freddy Krueger. That Miley Cyrus chick. Stefan's capacity for self-flagellation. Were you like this the first time, with your parents?"

The question threw her, and she shook her head, mouth working for a moment before she could answer. "No, I... cars. It was cars, I could barely stand to be in one. But then I didn't - I don't really remember the accident."

He straightened, and his eyes met hers seriously. "You don't have to remember anything about this, either. I'll take it away if you want."

She shouldn't have been surprised he would offer, but she was. And it was almost, _almost_ tempting - the easy way out.

She moved closer, reaching out to hold her fingers under the water still running into the sink, and instead of thinking about the river, she thought about standing in the shower with Damon as he held her and the cold went away.

It had bothered her before, really bothered her to the point where she had to deliberately calm her breathing and tightly clench her hands to stop them from shaking as she went through an action as mundane as washing her hands. But this was all right. Somehow, miraculously, Damon was like the calm place in a storm. He'd taken her from the water, he'd made her warm again, it was as simple as remembering how he had first become someone to trust.

"No," she said slowly, finally giving an answer to his offer.

"Sure?"

She turned the water off, and lifted her eyes to his. She didn't need him to fix her; right now she just needed him. She stepped closer still, sliding her arms up around his shoulders, and leaned against him.

The problem with this was that it wasn't exactly a friendly hug. When his arms wrapped around her his hands were restless on her sides, and she was too aware of every slight movement of his fingers, even through her thick sweater. And there was his cheek resting against hers, his breath on the side of her neck making her bite her lip and wonder at herself.

"Elena."

She could feel him tense, as if to pull away and she shook her head, tightening her grip on him. "Don't let go."

"You don't want -"

"Don't let go."

He wasn't a freaking saint and he didn't think she was stupid enough to expect him to be one. "Fine, I won't," he said. And he didn't. He held on tighter and dropped his mouth to her skin, lips brushing the curved muscle of her neck.

Whatever she meant by her words, she didn't stop him, clinging to him and shifting her head to the side in a move that could only be intended to encourage him. She sighed, eyes falling closed. It felt too good to stop.

In another moment she was going to kiss him, this couldn't be heading anywhere else.

His hand edged up the hem of her sweater, palm finding her bare hip above the low-slung waistband of her boxer shorts. Her sharp intake of breath might have stilled him but she came up on her toes and her mouth was an inch from his, hovering. He didn't close the distance; he wanted her to do it.

Her eyes opened wide and she stared into his. "God. Wait, um."

"No." His hand traced up her spine.

More staring. "We should -"

"You want me to take care of you, make you feel all better, I understand." His warm hands squeezed her waist. "I get _this_."

Her heart was racing, blood pounding in her ears, pooling low in her belly. She wondered how he could stand it. "Okay."

She shut her eyes and blindly found his mouth.

It happened fast, one minute she was learning the taste of him, the slide of his tongue over hers, the next she was letting him help her out of her sweater. She was pushing his shirt up, then it was on the floor and his hands were urging her shorts down off her thighs while her mouth travelled across his chest because she couldn't get enough of the taste of his skin.

He walked her backwards till she was pressed against the wall by the shower stall, barely pausing in kissing her as he opened the glass door and reached in to turn the water on. He waited only long enough to shed his jeans and then he was pulling her in after him, shutting the door as steam rose around them.

"Therapy," he murmured in her ear as he drew her under the flowing water.

Laughter bubbled out of her but it was soon lost in another kiss.

He'd been thinking about this for hours; since holding her frozen, shivering form against him in that other shower, he'd thought about how it could be under less dire circumstances. And he had grown accustomed to the things he wanted eluding him, but here it was, just like this: having her wet and willing, all steam and hot, drenched kisses and her damp, silky skin under his hands.

She felt weightless when he picked her up, the cold tile against her back made her gasp and arch into him. He pinned her to the wall and drove into her, thrilling at her response as she panted and wrapped herself around him. She trembled with every stroke, the heady force of his thrusts filling her with heat till finally she came apart, his demanding mouth swallowing her broken cry. He followed her, losing himself in the sweet pull of her body.

Her legs felt like jelly when he set her down after. She braced her hands flat on his stomach as he swayed over her.

"Oh I don't know about you," he groaned, voice heavy with satisfaction, "But I feel _much_ better."

His hand smoothed over her wet hair and she lifted her face to him. Smiling at him came easy. He'd driven every thought from her head but one. "What's going to happen now?"

"That depends, don't _you_ feel better?"

Well she wasn't scared, and she wasn't so worried about Katherine, and everything that was happening with Stefan, that her stomach hurt. It was strange how doing something like this, that a short while ago she would have sworn she would never do, would leave her feeling more like herself than she had in so long she couldn't remember.

"Yes," she said.

He shrugged. "Then who cares?"

He kissed her again, unhurried this time, and she found his hand with hers and held on. It was okay, she realised she knew exactly what was going to happen next.


End file.
